


fontanelle

by caesarjoestar



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Magic, Depression, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Jason Todd-centric, Mild Gore, Necromancer Jason Todd, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Abilities, Vomiting, the kids aren't alright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarjoestar/pseuds/caesarjoestar
Summary: Where is here? His whole body aches but that feels like the only thing right with this situation. What situation? What’s the situation? He takes a big gulping breath and feels almost nothing enter his lungs. That’s not good. I need air to breathe, he thinks, but… aren’t I dead? I’m dead right? I know I am, I remember it. Right?- - -Jason wakes up in his coffin, not quite alive but also not dead and makes his way out only to find that he seems to have gained magical powers in between the last swing of the Jokers crowbar and his reserection.





	1. im rotting inside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It's alright, it's okay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291975) by [loosingletters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosingletters/pseuds/loosingletters). 

> _ fontanelle - a space between the bones of the skull in an infant or fetus, where ossification is not complete and the sutures not fully formed. The main one is between the frontal and parietal bones._
> 
> title and chapter title are taken from babes in toyland's album "fontanelle"

His fingers twitch and splay out against the plush velvet underneath him. His shoes knock against each other as he twists. The suit is too tight around, so tight he can’t breathe (or maybe there's no oxygen in here?)  _ Where is here? _ His whole body aches but that feels like the only thing right with this situation.  _ What situation? What’s the situation? _ He takes a big gulping breath and feels almost nothing enter his lungs. That’s not good.  _ I need air to breathe, he thinks, but… aren’t I dead? I’m dead right? I know I am, I remember it. Right?  _

_ What’s going on? _

He opens his eyes and sees nothing and for a short, blissful moment he thinks he's right, he’s dead.  _ But if I’m dead why can I feel? _ The velvet, the shoes, the suit, the walls, the lid.  _ Oh God, the lid. I’ve been buried alive. _ He panics, he bangs on the walls, scratches at the lid and screams at the top of his lungs.

“Batman!”

He’d never been claustrophobic before but now he can understand it, suffocating and there nothing he can do about it. It’s like drowning without the water and just as terrifying. Choking on nothing and feeling the panic of the walls closing in on him.

“Bruce!”

Hurriedly he thumbles with his belt and removes it, using it to scratch at the lid, trying to break free.  _ Stupid Bruce, he really didn’t skimp on the casket, did he? _

“Dad!”

_ Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.  _

“Help me!”

His fingernails are ripped off and imbedded into the casket lid. Blood pours down his fingers, soaking the suit and staining the white dress shirt underneath. He pushes through the agony. He pushes himself through the small, jagged hole he made in the lid. Dirt and worms fall onto him, in his hair, his wounds, his mouth but he keeps going. He digs and digs for what feels like forever and he thinks that he must have been buried just above hell because six feet _can’t_ be this far down? Finally, his hand reaches up and feels the bitingly cold Gotham wind against it. Jason had never believed in a God but he thanked whoever or whatever was out there. He pulls his other hand through and grips onto the soil and pulls his head through. He takes another big gulp of air and finally, he can actually breathe. There’s wind whipping at his face and aggravating the fresh wounds on his fingers. His eyes open and it takes a moment but he realizes he’s in the manors private graveyard, across from him is Bruce’s great, great grandfather's grave sitting undisturbed just where it's always been. He looks to the right and he can see the rusted old gate that connects the graveyard to the rest of the manor grounds. He can see the manor itself with its soft lights just through the trees. He breathes a sigh of relief. 

He’s home. 

And then he hears  _ it _ . A low drowning sound coming from beside him, he doesn’t understand what it is but it puts a chill down his spine. Then it comes from his other side, and then in front of and behind and then everywhere and the drowning becomes high pitched noises like screeching cats and clashing piano keys. It’s too much at once. It hurts, it’s upsetting, he wants to get away but he finds that all the energy he had before is gone and he’s stuck halfway out of the hole and he can’t move. He frantically tries to pull himself through but it doesn’t work he can’t get away and the sounds are getting closer and closer and he’s in pain. Oh God, so much pain it’s unbearable, unspeakable.  _ I need to get away _ , is all he can think. He doesn’t know where to but he needs to get away from here and be anywhere else.

Something reaches out and grabs him and he’s to terror-stricken he lashes out against the hand. He screams so loudly he’s sure he’ll never be able to speak again. There’s an awfully loud sound of stone blasting apart and raining shrapnel around him and it momentarily deafens him.  _ This is so awful, I wish I stayed dead. _

The hand comes back and this time he doesn’t even have the energy to fight against it anymore and lets it grab him. He finds that instead of the pain he was expecting, the hand pulls him out of the ground and cradles him against a broad, strong chest. He smells that familiar cologne and soft sweater against his cheeks and he knows who it is.  _ Batman, Bruce, Dad.  _

There’s a soft cooing in his ear and he realizes the other noises have gone away, “Ssshh, Jason, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

“Da- Dad,  _ Dad. _ ” He whispers back and he hears Bruce’s breath hitch in his ear.

“Yes, it’s me, I’m here, Jason.”

He finally opens his eyes and sees him. Bruce Wayne cradling him and looking down at him with worried eyes. He looks the same as the last time Jason saw him but somehow he also looks older too. He thinks he can spot a few grey hairs growing around his temple that he’s sure wasn’t there last time.

“Jason?” Bruce questions and it’s at that moment Jason realizes he’s been staring up at Bruce for a long time without speaking. He opens his mouth to say something (of which he’s not quite sure what he was going to say) but instead of words, only vomit leaves his mouth. He gags and all the dirt he swallowed on his escape from the casket pile onto Bruce’s shoes. It’s not just dirt, but also stomach acid, worms, maggots, bugs and he thinks he saw at least one spider.

“Don’t feel good.” Is all he can muster to say. Bruce doesn’t reply and just picks Jason up, carrying him back to the manor. As they leave the graveyard Jason’s sure he can see figures watching them and slinking back into the darkness.


	2. maggot-infested

As it was winter the days got darker earlier, but it was coming up to the time where they would usually leave for patrol and Bruce sent Tim down to the cave. Bruce just had to finish some work for Wayne Enterprises first before he could join him. 

He sat in his small office, honestly rushing the paperwork so he could go on patrol earlier when one of the motion sensor security cameras sounded the alarm. Bruce pulled up the feed and it seemed that someone was in the private graveyard on the edge of the property. Swiftly he moved from his chair and down to the ground floor of the manor to inform Alfred that he was going to check on the intruder and to tell Tim in case he needed back up. 

He silently made his way over to the graveyard, watching for anyone else they may be around. Batarang in hand he opened the gate, ready to attack whoever was there. He really wasn’t expecting to find a boy slumped over on the ground seemingly having a panic attack. He edged closer to the boy, not wanting to distress him but also been wary of him as he didn’t know what the boy could be capable of. Only once he got closer did he realize that the boy wasn't in fact slumped over, he was half-way out of a hole in the ground. A hole in front of Jason’s grave. Jason. It was Jason. Somehow he’s alive ( _ how was that possible, he’s been dead for over a year? _ ). 

He rushed to his son, forgetting everything about how to treat someone who's obviously distressed, grabbing him by his arm and trying to yank him out of the hole. Jason's head shot up from where he had been bent over and for the first time in over a year, Bruce looked into his son’s face. He didn’t see the cheeky, boisterous, rebellious boy he remembered, he saw a terrified, broken child. Jason looked at him unknowing, he did not see his father at that moment but a monster here to take him away and an ear-piercing scream ripped through his throat. Bruce had heard Jason scream before, on patrol and lately in his nightmares, but nothing like this. This sounded… inhuman, both high-pitched and low-pitched, like the screeching of a cat and the rumble of thunder before lightning. Every single gravestone exploded around them and in the chaos of it all Bruce tried to shield Jason from the jagged shards of stone raining down upon them.

Jason seems to have gone limp from his exertion of energy so Bruce tries to pull him out of the hole again, this time gentler and Jason doesn’t try to fight back. Once fully out of the hole he pulls Jason into his chest and holds his lost child for a long moment. His rational mind tells him it’s a trick, that it’s not real, that he probably fell asleep doing his paperwork and is dreaming this or an enemy is tricking him to hurt him but at that moment for one of the first times in his adult life he lets his heart take over. He holds his lost son and thanks every God out there for giving him back his baby.

* * *

Bruce opens the door to the manor, Jason still in his arms and immediately Alfred rushes up to him.

“Master Bruce, are you alright-” He stops in his tracks and stares open-mouthed at the boy in Bruce’s arms. There were not many time Bruce could count of Alfred being shocked or surprised but this was probably the first time he’d ever seen him unable to form words.

At hearing the older man speak, Jason twisted around until he could look at him, holding his hand out to him. 

“Alfie…” He whispered and within an instant Alfred was beside grasping his hand and pulling the boy into a hug. The position was awkward with Bruce still holding the boy but none of them cared.

“My dear boy, words can not describe how much I have missed you,” Alfred spoke into Jason’s shoulder, tears rolling off down his cheeks and staining the boy's jacket.

“Missed you too,” Jason wasn’t sure of where he had been or for how long all he knew was that was the truth, he had missed Alfred terribly and had longed to see him again for what felt like an eternity. 

At that Alfred stood up straight and wiped his eyes clear of tears. “We need to do a medical check on him immediately- and a blanket, he’s shivering,” With that he ran off to find a blanket for the boy, leaving Jason and Bruce alone with each other.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them just staring at each other, Bruce took the opportunity to study him. He had thought that he would of never of been able to look Jason in the eyes again in anything other than a photograph. He looked exactly the same as the day he had died. Shorter than most fifteen-year-old boys (because of the malnutrition he had suffered as a child), patchy facial hair just starting to grow in for the first time and braces fitted around his crooked teeth. However there were two major changes to the boy, ones that Bruce could not find a rational explanation for he had a white stripe of hair on the left side of his head (reminding Bruce distinctly of Lily Munster) and a subtler but also scarier change, his eyes had changed from cornflower blue to electric green. Unnatural and entirely captivating. 

Bruce pressed his hand carefully to Jason’s cheek and suddenly flinched away from the biting cold that he found there. It was strange really, Jason had always run hot but Bruce knew that they had both just been outside in the freezing cold of a Gotham winter night and yet it felt different, as if that was the way Jason was always going to feel now.  _ Well, he’s a corpse, isn’t he? _ No, he would not think like that (and yet he couldn’t help it anyway). 

Alfred came back to them and wrapped the warm, afghan blanket around the boy's shoulders and ushered the two of them down into the cave.

Once down in the cave, Bruce gently placed Jason down onto the medical cot and moved out of the way to let Alfred check the boy over. He first treated the wounds on Jason’s hand, cleaning and bandaging his damaged fingers. Everything seemed to be normal (or as normal as you could get for someone who had just been resurrected) when Alfred’s hand moved to touch Jason’s stomach through his shirt but instead of feeling his skin through the cotton there was simply nothing. Without being able to stop himself, Alfred hand twitched and felt something… squishy and wet. 

Immediately Jason lurched forward in both a scream of agony and to vomit yet again, this time hitting Alfred squarely in the chest. Medical tools, objects on tables, files and pieces of paper shot off from where they had been and flew across the room. Bruce rushed forward to comfort his son (narrowly missing a flying scalpel on the way), grabbing Jason by the shoulders and letting him fall back against his chest. Jason wheezed out a few more pained sobs and then everything that had been in the air came crashing down unceremoniously. 

Jason squeezed his face in between the crook of Bruce’s neck and cried in pain. 

Pushing one hand through Jason’s hair and letting the other fall to his back, Bruce held Jason to him, whispering to him. Panic and anxiety ran through Bruce’s veins as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

“Master Jason, I am truly so very sorry. I am so, so sorry,” Alfred spoke, genuinely upset with himself.

After a few more moments of crying, Jason gulped out, “S’its- s’its okay…” 

“No, it is not,” He kneeled down so he was at Jason’s level, “I hurt you, badly, for that, I am truly sorry.”

Slowly, Jason pulled his face out of Bruce’s neck and looked over to Alfred, “Ya’ didn’t mean to.”

“I know but I-” 

Bruce laid a hand down onto the older man’s shoulder, “Alfred, it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Alright, but Master Jason I will have to lift your shirt up to see what is going on there. Is that okay with you?” 

“Okay…” It wasn’t really, but he just wanted to get it over with.

Bruce helped Jason out of his jacket and carefully Alfred began to unbutton the boy’s shirt. Starting at the neck he looked normal but the further down the buttons went his skin became mottled, pale with green and purple looking bruises and then at Jason’s stomach did they see it. The flesh that would have usually been covering him had rotted away, leaving a view of most of his internal organs. Some of them were healthy and alive, whereas others were also rotten and maggot-infested. 

All three of them stared in horror, they had all seen their fair share of weird but nothing ever like this.

“I’m gonna be sick again.”

This time Alfred managed to grab a metal bucket they had for that very reason and got it to him just seconds before Jason started vomiting again.

Not much made Bruce Wayne feel queasy but looking at your own son’s rotten, infested organs was getting there.  _ You’re fault he’s like this, you can’t do your goddamn job as Batman or as a parent. You’re fault he died. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re fault. You’re faul- _

“Guys,” A timid voice called from across the cave, “What’s going on?”

Tim Drake, clad in his full Robin gear walked over to the medical bay and swept back the curtain. 

Time stopped and both boys eyes became glued to each other, mirroring each other's dumbstruck looks.

  
“Who  _ the fuck _ is that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more maggots and vomit more of what i love >:)
> 
> interestingly i have like multiple different endings im considering for this (some of them darker then others) not sure which one ill be using yet be between now and next chapter i think ill have to make a decision since it will dictate where i take this story


	3. liar, liar, liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "bruise violet" by babes in toyland

“ _ Seriously, _ who the fuck is that?” Jason all but screamed. He pivoted around on the spot, giving Bruce an intense stare. “Tell me who he is!”

“That,” Bruce started and really, he had no idea how it was going to answer this. He didn’t know how to form sentences and talk to his children at the best of times,  _ how the hell was he going to do this? _ “Is Tim.”

Jason, visibly not impressed with that answer at all turned away from Bruce to stare at the floor and he didn’t speak again for a long moment.

“So… you replaced me?” His voice cracked in the middle, the anger and dejection in his voice obvious.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak but Tim cut him to it, “He didn’t, he didn’t want another Robin after- after you but I forced him to make me Robin.”

“What, so you just tried to steal my life?” Jason growled, “Thought ‘cause I was dead that it wouldn’t matter, that you could take my family and cape?” He jumped off the cot and stalked towards the other boy.

“No, I didn’t, I promise!” Tim began to back up with his arms raised until his back hit the hard wall of the cave.

“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it fucking looks like it! What did mummy and daddy not love you enough so you had to go and steal some  _ dead _ kids life to get attention?” Jason knew he must have hit a sore spot because Tim visibly flinched at that, the cruel, vindictive part of him that lived deep down lurched up and took over. “That’s it right? Daddy didn’t want you so you had to take mine?”

“That isn’t it!” Tim begged but Jason just kept advancing on him, his hands curled into fists and looking ready to fight.

  
  


Once he was finally upon Tim he raised his fist to hit him but a much bigger hand wrapped around his, “That’s enough, Jason,” Bruce spoke in a tone that showed it was final and we found not be allowing him to beat up Tim.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgot about you,” He sneered, spinning around on the spot and yanking his arm out of Bruce’s tight hold, “I don’t believe for a fucking second that he ‘forced you’ to make him Robin. Stop being a coward and just tell me the truth!” Red, hot tears of hurt ran down his cheeks, his shoulders shuddering as he couldn’t suppress the sob that escaped his throat.

Bruce gathered the boy up into his arms (being careful not to touch his stomach), holding him there and letting him let out his emotions. He protested weakly and squirmed in his arms but eventually went limp and allowed himself to be held. Bruce picked Jason and laid him down on the cot, laying the blanket over him and tucking it in.

“Master Timothy, I believe it would be best if you returned to your room,” Alfred said, ushering Tim back upstairs.

“Okay…” He replied, voice wet with tears he was desperately trying to keep in and walked dejectedly up the stairs and back into the manor.

Once both Alfred and Tim had both left the cave did Bruce speak again, “I didn’t replace you, Jason, I promise.”

“Whatever,” Was all Jason replied, turning over and pulling the blanket over his head, signalling that he both didn’t believe him and didn’t want to talk anymore.

Sighing, Bruce called out, “I’m going to call Zatanna over here to check you,” He didn’t wait for the reply he knew wouldn’t come and sat in the Batcomputer chair, ready to get to the bottom of this mystery.

* * *

Tim ripped off his mask, not caring that it pulled off some of his skin with it and threw it angrily onto his messy bed. He flopped down face first, rolling over onto his back and rubbing away the tears from his eyes. He let out a shaky sigh and stared blankly at his ceiling. 

He had spent a large chunk of his childhood fantasizing about meeting Jason Todd,  _ the _ Robin. Dick had been Robin long before Jason but Tim had been too young to really remember much of his time as Batman’s sidekick so Jason had been  _ his _ Robin. He’d see Jason at Galas or at school sometimes but he was always too shy to actually speak to him, always telling himself that he’d get the courage next time. Then one day wasn’t a next time, he had woken up to his father reading the Gotham Gazette with the title ‘WAYNE’S SON JASON TODD KILLED IN ETHIOPIA FIRE’ and he felt like his world had fallen apart. Realistically, he knew that it was an incredibly dangerous job but Batman and Robin had always felt so untouchable that it was almost like they were immortal, but Jason Todd was just a child and Bruce Wayne was just a man. 

He understood why Jason had the reaction he did, Tim was sure if he had been in Jason’s shoes that he would have felt the same way, but being threatened by his childhood idol (and crush) had hurt, a lot. 

He truly didn’t want Jason to hate him but he also had absolutely no idea how to become his friend.

Tim rolled over onto his side, pushing his face into his pillow and sighed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh bruce waynes masterful use of words truly a master speaker
> 
> so i worked out where i wanna go with this fic which is gooooooooooooood its gonna be a bit jaytim but not romantically just platonically. part of me wanted to make it romantic jaytim buttt i originally tagged this as gen so im gonna keep it that way so just friend jaytim
> 
> and ik im updating this on the same day as the last chapter but like i posted the last chapter at like 2am and then i fell asleep at 6am and slept until like 4pm and im posting this at 11:35pm so its a new day for me lol


	4. alter/undo

She knew that you always have to expect the unexpected when you worked in the line of work she did, but she really hadn't been expecting a call from Bruce at that time. Today was her day off and she had been planning to make the most of it. Wearing her most comfortable pyjamas, ordered in a pizza, cheap wine and binging Netflix was all she planned on doing but of course, she’d never be so lucky as to get to enjoy that all night.

Her phone beeped from beside her showing that Bruce Wayne was face timing her. She sighed, set down her glass of wine and answered.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” 

Bruce (who surprisingly wasn’t in his Batman outfit) took a long pause before answering, “Gotham is fine,” Zatanna breathed a sigh of relief, she really couldn’t be bothered to save a whole city tonight, “There is a… personal problem, however.”

“And it’s magic related?”

“Yes, it’s about Jason.”

She wasn’t sure she was hearing things correctly, “Excuse me, did you say Jason?”

“He’s alive.”

_ Well, fuck. _

* * *

Zatanna zeta beamed into the cave as soon as she could, her plans completely forgotten and filled with so much worry it felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. There were only two kinds of magic that could bring someone back to life, a Lazarus Pit (which seemed highly unlikely given the details of the case) and Necromancy. I wasn’t often she (or the other magic users she worked with) came across a Necromancer but when they did nine times out of ten it got ugly and fast. She was hoping for Jason’s sake he’d be that elusive one time everything panned out fine.

Spotting Bruce standing by the computer console, she made her way to him. He was standing stock-still and completely motionless, staring into nothing. Someone who didn’t know Bruce as well as she did may have believed he was simply bored or daydreaming but not Zatanna, she could tell by his hunched, stiff shoulders and his far off gaze that he nervous, anxious even.

“Bruce,” She said, placing her hand around his elbow.

He didn’t turn his head to her, just began leading her to his lost son, “He’s over here.”

As soon as she was in the vicinity of the medical area she could feel it, the strength of his so clearly visible to her. It was almost overpowering, all this raw, untapped magical power flowing through Jason. 

Bruce approached the boy still wrapped up in his blanket “Jason, sit up. Zatanna is here and she’s going to look you over.”

“There’s no need,” She spoke as Jason began to move himself into a sitting position, “I already know what it is.”

“Well then, what’s wrong with me, Doc?” Jason joked but it was evident that he was just as desperate as Bruce to know what was going on.

“Necromancy.”

“So, a Necromancer brought me back?”

“No,” Zatanna tried to explain, “Well, yes. A Necromancer did bring you back, it’s just that you also happen to be that Necromancer.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Both men exclaimed. 

“But I ain’t magic!”

She stepped closer to him, grasping his hands and smoothing her thumb over the top of his right hand, “Actually, you are. It would have been impossible for me to sense it before now and that’s why I never noticed all the times we met before. The vast majority of the time a Necromancer will have no signs of magic before they, well.... die. Their magic brings them back to life and then they are able to use their magic.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over all of them before Jason spoke again, “This is a lot to take it.”

Zatanna nodded at the boy, “I know this is hard but I promise to help you through this.”

“What about his stomach?” Bruce questioned.

Jason slipped the blanket off his shoulders and showed Zatanna the rotten hole in his flesh. She sucked in a surprised breath but bent down to try and get a closer look.

“It’s not as bad as you think, in fact, it’s the opposite of what you think it is. You’re not rotting, Jason, you’re healing.”

“I’m what?”

“Healing,” She explained, “Look at this piece here,” She pointed to a patch of shit the top left of the hole, “See how it’s less black the flesh surrounding it if you look closely you can see it’s spreading to the areas around it. It’s your magic, you’re healing yourself.”

* * *

_ Necromancy. Healing. Magic. _ It was all so insane and yet it made so much sense. It was true that he had never felt anything akin to magic within himself before this but now he can feel it. It’s like there's something other than blood coursing through his veins, something deep and dark but also light at the same time. Something ancient and yet so new.

_ Magic, I’m magic. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhhhhh idk about this chapter 
> 
> happy batman day ig

**Author's Note:**

> i was so so so inspired by loosingletters lovely fic where jason comes back because hes a necromancer and i really wanted to explore that universe more. not sure if ill stick to what is exactly in their fic or go off more on my own (mostly because im honestly not familiar enough with zatanna and jason blood enough where i would feel comfortable writing them).
> 
> this fic was also inspired by babes in toyland's album "fontanelle". especially the song "bruise violet" which even on my first listen instantly reminded me of our jason (especially hes feelings towards tim immediately after he came back)
> 
> _you got this thing that follows me around,_  
you fucking bitch, well I hope your insides rot,  
liar, liar, liar,  
you see the stars through eyes lit up with lies,  
you got your stories all twisted up in mine. 
> 
> see? incredibly jason. and dont worry, tim will be making an appearance shortly!


End file.
